


The Man Who Couldn't Save The World

by TakeHomeJulie



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: M/M, i think, rick and daryl are really cute and awkward, there's kind of making out?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3164654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeHomeJulie/pseuds/TakeHomeJulie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life was a lot easier for Rick Grimes when he wasn't desperately trying not to screw up his relationship with Daryl Dixon and life was quieter and more anti-social for Daryl Dixon when he wasn't trying to hide his relationship with Rick Grimes; turns out both of which are pretty hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Man Who Couldn't Say 'I Love You'

Rick can barely remember what it felt like to kiss Lori. He assumed it was for the best sometimes because he knows Daryl’s lips taste better. While Lori’s were sweet, sometimes to the point where it made the ex-deputy feel sick, Daryl’s are bitter. Rick rules that to a number of things; smoking, alcohol and eating burnt squirrel flesh. He doesn’t like comparing the two because they both love him different ways and he them, and it seems like wishful thinking to forget completely about his wife.

There is the constant nagging in his head that tells him Daryl doesn’t like him, that the feeling in his stomach is just one-sided and he prays that it isn’t true. When they first kissed, it was strange and awkward and he remembers it was quite messy, wet lips and nimble limbs running alone one another’s body’s. The tension in the air was almost able to choke Rick and he hopes he can find that sometime again. They kiss, sure, but it is never like the first; clumsy, unsure yet so desperate.

Daryl had gone on a run and panic had begun to settle in after he didn’t return after two days, Maggie and Glenn did though saying they’d lost him somehow and had stuck around to find him without any luck.

Two awful days followed that.

Rick waited and waited, volunteering watch duty after watch duty to ensure he would be one of the first to spot the hunter when _\- if-_ he got back. The man was positive he would return, Daryl was much too strong to go down that way, he would find his way back, he would.

It was the night of the second day when he first caught sight of him and if his yelling wasn’t enough to wake the dead, it sure did everyone in the prison. Before he’d even made it down to the red-neck, his family were pouring out of the door to see what was going on; some half-asleep, the others alert.

The first time they kissed was that night when Rick went into Daryl’s cell after Hershel had finished cleaning him up and he’d stayed, maybe just a bit too long. It’s when he crawls into beside the man that they found each other. Rick’s eyes rested much too long on the other man’s and then- hesitantly- he moved forward, the tip of his dry lips brushing Daryl’s and to both their surprise, they grasped at one another, Daryl somehow ending up on top, pressing delicate kisses to Rick’s face as their hands explore the other’s body. It was something- a sensation- that could not be matched, not with the way they felt about the other.

The morning following that, the hunter took off into the woods surrounding the prison, explaining with a flat tone that they were running out of deer and he’d be back before they all knew it. That didn’t, however, calm Rick’s nerves. People didn’t get lucky twice, not like that, and if this time, the red-neck didn’t come back, they’d have started something they couldn’t finish.

When Daryl emerged and walked through the prison gates, Rick’s heart felt like it might catch in his throat and he might choke over words but it was then he’d kissed Daryl infront of everyone and none of them seem very surprised. They would later learn Maggie had seen them kissing the few nights before that and told Glenn, who had quickly made work of the sight and told everyone. It wasn’t the worst way for them all to find out, and Carl had been mad for a few days afterwards, but it was out in the open and they were safe to be together without anyone being curious.

Beth had learnt the day after from her sister. They knew because they heard the laughter almost a cell block away and she hadn’t shut up about all the cute couple names they would have. That girl sure was a pain sometimes but they both loved her, God forbid they didn’t.

She was the most shocked by the news, mostly because it sent her into a fit of giggles, and then with a shake of her head, she began to sing a slow love song that made both the men blush. Now, she keeps a permanent smile on whenever in the presence of the two men. Maggie says she’ll be like that for a while.

It would be a week later when they’d learn the two Greene sisters had a bet going and Maggie had lost to her sister terribly even though she had suspected Rick and Daryl were going to happen eventually. Their bet was just a bit of fun and Maggie owed Beth baby-sitting duty whenever she wanted it for the next two days. Beth wanted to sleep and needed Judy off her hands for a while, Maggie would be dumped with the little tike. It was a stupid prize to win, considering anyone in the prison would’ve taken the child off her hands had she asked but no one said anything.

A day after Rick gets hurt outside the fences, he learns that Daryl had to be ordered out of the ex-deputy’s cell while Hershel was working on him because he was, as Hershel said, ‘Too much of a distraction.’

He gets better a few days later but the hunter doesn’t make any contact, not even glancing up at his once.

The lack of words between the two hurts.

Rick knows that Daryl likes him too but there’s still doubt in him that he can’t explain and when the hunter asks him a few hours from now why he likes him, Rick finds himself at a loss of words. How does he put it into words the way he feels about him? So instead of making a joke, something to clear the tension in the air, he bites out something that feels too close to his heart.

“I love you because the world showed me the way to you.”

He regrets not making up something stupid like how he likes Daryl because he smells like sweat and motorbike oil but he can’t and the moment the twelve words slip past his lips, the man freezes. If Rick was to kiss him now, he has the feeling the man’s lips would taste bitter- like they usually do- but they would also be solid and unwilling to anyone’s touch. A part of him expects the man to say something back but Rick wonders if it’s too selfish to expect that.

Rick said ‘I love you’. He started the sentence with the three words neither of them has said yet and that makes it seem all too real. Rick hopes the man is ready to hear them but he can’t be sure, not with the way Daryl hasn’t moved in almost two full minutes.

Daryl does the only thing Daryl knows how to, he gets up and runs.

It isn’t all that much of a surprise to Rick. He was too forward and it is all too much for Daryl. He needs to learn to take it slow and not always say the first thing that comes to mind. The hunter is like a deer, one movement and it becomes so easily startled.

Maybe comparing Daryl to a deer isn’t the best way Rick can deal with things but he isn’t about to go storming after the man demanding an explanation. He decides to wait a few hours for the man to cool off, then if he’s right, he’ll find him on watch and confront him in the only way he knows how; directly. 

* * *

 

The night falls slowly on the prison after what feels like an eternity and Rick can’t be more nervous when Daryl announces it is his turn to keep watch.

The ex-deputy excuses himself from the table, ruffling his son’s hair as he does, and follows slowly after the man. He doesn’t miss the smile that Maggie throws at him and she’s obviously got the wrong idea which isn’t a surprise, knowing her.

He finds the man with a cigarette pressed in-between his teeth, sitting against the wall with one leg laid out flat in-front of him, the other lifted slightly above the ground, knee in the air.

“’Sup,” Daryl offers, taking another drawl on the cigar held between his index and middle fingers, pulling it back slightly to turn his head in regard to the other man.

Rick just gives a small nod of his head, sinking down to the ground to sit down beside the man. It feels like an eternity since he heard his voice and as much as he wants to kiss Daryl, he’s afraid of making any sudden movements that might startle him. He said ‘I love you’ and though the words are usually those that bring people closer, he can’t help but feel like it drew an invisible wedge between them.

“About what I said last night-“

“Ya don’t need to explain yourself, Rick,” Daryl replies, not meeting his companion’s eyes.

“I do,” the ex-deputy insists, scratching at the scruff of his beard with one hand. “I was just being honest with you. I love you, I’m not afraid of it. I thought I was, I thought what I was feeling- what I am feeling- was just something else. But it’s not. I love you. What are you scared of, Daryl?”

“I ain’t afraid of nothin’.”

Rick replies with the shake of his head. There are no words that can describe how he feels when the red-neck grabs his hand between his own large one and subconsciously begins to rub his thumb across the skin, sending shudders through Rick’s body. They love eachother- he knows that- and if Daryl is too scared to say it, he’s not going to push him. He’s been afraid to say it too and finally putting it out there gives him chills that he can’t explain.

“Well, there’s something, I know there is.”

The man turns his head, squeezing Rick’s hand between his. “I’m just... Ya don’t get it, Rick. Ya don’t.”

“What don’t I get? Because I get that I love you, if that’s what you’re talking about. I get that no matter how hard you try to push me away, I will always come for you because that’s who we are now, right? You’re my-my partner.”

“I’m never gonna be Lori.”

Rick swallows the lump in his lump, giving a small shake of his head to deny the man’s words. “Daryl.”

“Never gonna live up to that, to her. Never gonna be able to give ya what she did.”

“You don’t need to be her, you don’t. I love you for who you are, not because I need someone but because I found someone. I found you.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath before the man beside him speaks again. “Ya wish I was her, though, right? Weren’t like you chose to be apart from her, she was taken from ya. Then I was the only dumbass in this prison stupid enough to-“

“You don’t have to be her, Daryl, believe me, okay?”

“I feel like your wife’s replacement.”

There it is, that’s what he’s trying to say, Rick realises. Daryl is insecure about it because he’s afraid he’s being used, nothing more than a last resort because Rick was lonely and sad and needed comfort. It’s not true, it isn’t.

Sure, he misses his wife, he misses her every day. The first time he kissed Daryl, he swore he could hear Lori’s voice vibrating in his ears, taste her lips, smell her perfume, but this was Daryl and he was different; loyal, kind, understanding. At first, Rick thought maybe he wanted someone to fill the void she’d left but that wasn’t true. Even though he loves Daryl almost more than anything else, he doesn’t fill that void, not the one Lori had once occupied. They are different people, very different, and they give Rick different things, things he can’t explain but he needs.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he whispers, trying to keep his tone as soft as possible. “I’m not afraid of loving you but I am scared. Of what, I don’t know. All I know is that I need you and I love you and for now I think that’s enough, for both of us. I just need to know that you’re committed to us.”

Daryl’s gaze flickers up to the ex-deputy, eyes resting on his face. “Okay.”

“I love you, Daryl.”

“I-I love ya.”

For now, it’s enough; it’s enough to know they no longer have to skip around their feelings.

Rick moves close enough, tilting his head slightly to carve Daryl’s lips with his own, the man’s bitter lips pressing against his own. It’s a kiss of need, of fulfilment, and the red-neck falls into it, one hand nervously moving to grasp the deputy’s hip while the other tightens in the front of his shirt, bringing Rick closer to him.

They moan into one another’s lips, Rick pushing Daryl down as he towers over the man, the barriers of their clothes feeling more like a curse than a blessing in the cool weather. What Rick wouldn’t give to tear the shirt off the other man and feel his skin against his own but they’re on watch and it’s far too risky- anyone could walk in on them.

Despite the danger, Daryl fumbles nervously with the first button of Rick’s shirt, each popping open as the red-neck undoes them and Rick slides his shirt off, pressing himself further in-between Daryl’s legs, laughing into the man’s lips when he gasps.

Daryl’s left hand knots in Rick’s curly hair, pulling the man closer and crushing their lips against each other’s once again. The few seconds their lips parted was far too much and feeling them ache against each other is a feeling so unknown to Daryl he’s almost bitterly surprised.

“Kiss me,” Rick groans, his voice husky, and the sound digs at the red-neck’s lower belly.

The ex-deputy feels his burning desire for Daryl in his veins and though the night is almost bone-chilling, he feels his face grow hot when the man beneath him moves slightly, moaning Rick’s name like a prayer into his lips. They haven’t gone beyond making out and neither is sure they’re quite ready for that yet anyway but feeling himself pressed flush against the younger man, he regrets not having spoken about it yet.

“We should stop,” Rick tries to say but the other man’s lips mumbles the sounds and it comes out sounding nothing like it should’ve. Instead of trying to say it again, he pulls back, leaning up. A brief moment passes until Daryl pulls himself off of the ground, pulling a cigarette from his pocket to stick in-between his teeth and touching the end with a flame from a lighter in his left breast pocket.

“You okay?” Daryl drawls, eyes glancing anxiously at the man.

Rick knows it’s not like him to be the one that breaks their physical contact but he needs to talk not just kiss away the woes of yesterday and lie in each other’s arms.

“Fine,” he answers honestly. “I just want to know where we’re going with this.”

“With what?” the red-neck asks, like there isn’t an obvious answer to the question, puffing a small hint of smoke from between his thin lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette.

He’s been smoking for as long as Rick can remember and though it isn’t often he has a cigarette to himself, the ex-deputy can’t help but wish the man would kick the habit. It was disgusting and only led to more health issues, ones they couldn’t afford with the way the world was. If Daryl contracted a disease, they wouldn’t be able to cure it. They’d be left hopeless and unable to do anything to save him and that scared Rick, not more than the dead outside the walls but almost.

_Almost._                                                                                                                                                                                                        

“Us. I want to know where we both think this is going because I don’t know; what you want, what I want.”

“Rick-“

“I can’t promise anything, you know that but if you don’t want this to go any further, I understand, Daryl. After Lori,” he said, noticing the pained look that crossed the red-neck’s face when Rick’s deceased wife was mentioned, “I never thought I’d be with someone. Let alone a dirty red-neck hunter.”

“This your way of being nice?” the other man growls, stubbing his cigarette on the concrete beneath them.

Rick smirks, entwining his hand with Daryl’s. “I love you, I need you to know that. I’m not afraid of it, I’ve said that before, but if we’re going to do this then we’re going to do it properly.

The red-neck doesn’t pull his hand from Rick’s grip, instead offering a gentle squeeze that almost surprises both of them.

“You don’t have to say it back-“

“I love you,” Daryl says but he tries to hide it with a cough, half caught between embarrassed and nervous.

What if Rick decides he doesn’t want Daryl anymore? What if one of them leaves the safety of the prison gates and never returns, leaving the other completely alone? He’s worried about it too much, especially after the time he got stranded and had to fight tooth and claw to get back to the prison. Rick was a mess then even though their relationship hadn’t exactly been out in the open yet. The man ran down, yelling Daryl’s name over and over and when they finally met, he threw himself at Daryl.

 “I love you,” he repeats, finally swallowing the anxiety in his throat.

He was never one for those three little words, not growing up in the household he did but saying them now to Rick, they take on a whole new meaning. Instead of being said over the top of a beer bottle, cigarette smoke filling the air while his mother sat down, face beat down and a bruise covering her cheek- because there was always a bruise somewhere- those three words are said with wet lips and truth. They don’t owe each other anything, neither of them have to say it but they do.

“I love you too, Daryl.”

 

 


	2. The Man Who Couldn't Bite His Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Especially Daryl Dixon, the man who could eat Rick alive when he became a rotting corpse and the widower would still love him, the man who could bring up every nasty thing he could in a fight- how Rick failed at this, how he failed at that, how he or she is dead because of Rick, how Lori died because Rick was too damn stubborn to forgive her- and Rick would still, deep inside, still love him with every part of himself.'
> 
> Basically just a really sappy chapter to tide me (us) over until Season 6 comes back.

The weight on Rick’s chest is lifted when Daryl says those three words. He’s heard them before but being around other people, they haven’t allowed themselves to be that open yet. When Daryl leaves for a run, they must slip out like a roll of the tongue and then the red-neck is walking away quickly, obviously embarrassed.

No one says anything about hearing Daryl say it but Rick knows they heard; everyone did. The only person looking even briefly at him is Beth, who must be talking to Carl, her gaze flickering over Rick every now and then while Judith sits in her lap, chewing on her index finger.

“You can take her tonight, I guess,” he hears the blonde says. “She’s been pretty good the last few nights. Barely keeps me up anymore which is good. She’s teething though as well so that’s not the best but it’d be nice for her to spend some time with you, I think she’d like that.”

Carl grinning from ear to ear, spooning more food into his mouth as he watches his sister. The boy is okay with Rick and Daryl, atleast, that’s the impression he has given to them. When he found out- or when he overheard Maggie whispering in hushed giggles to Beth- he apparently stormed off, when to his cell and read comics. Michonne spoke to him and supposedly he cooled off, said that he just wanted to be told by his dad and not someone else.

Rick understood that, of course he did. He was planning to tell his son eventually but Daryl had agreed that they should keep it quiet until they figured out exactly what the hell they thought they were doing. If there was something- anything- about being with Daryl that he regretted, it was not telling his son when he had the chance.

“If she’s any problem, come get me, I don’t mind,” the blonde continues, her words bringing Rick back to reality. Carl is holding Judith, bouncing the young child on his lap while Beth eats, elbows on the table, catching Maggie’s ribs accidentally. “Or Daryl, he’s like the patron saint of you guys.”

Maggie spins, fixing her sister with a glare. “You _have_ got to have the boniest elbows in the entire world, Beth. Honestly. It’s like getting stabbed whenever they touch me.” Grabbing her sister’s arm, she pushes it away from her, frowning. “Keep them on your own side. This is my space.”

“I’m squished!” the girl replies, bringing light to the small amount of room she has been allowed on the chair. While Carl and Rick share the other side- Daryl had once been there too before he’d left for his run - Beth, Maggie, Glenn, Axel and Oscar are forced together on the other, much closer than should be humanely allowed. “How else should I eat my food?”

“Without your elbows on the table,” Maggie says, glaring holes through her sister’s head. She has been grouchier than usual, probably on account of losing the bet with her sister. Either that, or she is just in a particularly bad mood, which is to be expected with the cold of the prison, a result of the bitter winter that now chills their bones.

“If you’re that annoyed then move.”

Rick can’t help the small laugh that escapes his throat at hearing Carl’s suggestion. The boy is smirking daringly at the eldest Greene sister, eyes narrowed as if to challenge her.

Maggie kicks herself out of her chair, standing. Her chair squeaks something horrible and Rick winces at the noise, noticing the way Beth covers her ears to protect herself against it. Even Glenn, who was sitting quietly before, gets up, calling after his wife.

“Well, that was...” Axel starts but he doesn’t finish, just moves his spoon around his bowl.

“Totally dramatic?” Beth frowns, pushing her food away from herself. “Yeah. I don’t even know what’s going on with her lately. She’s been biting my head off every chance I get. From the way she carries on about me, you’d probably think I was one of the worst people to ever exist, honestly.”

The widowed man stares at the younger girl, eyes flickering briefly over to glance at his son and daughter. “Hormones?” he offers.

Maggie’s twenty-four, probably older by now, and those kinds of things happen. Either that, or maybe she’s pregnant, but none of them want to dwell on the possibility of a pregnancy, not after the last one turned out so horribly. This world is a world made for mother-less children and child-less mothers, no one else.

“Maybe,” Beth replies, smiling politely at Judith as she watches the child, chin leaning on her palm. “Or _maybe_ she’s just mad because I ate the last Kit-Kat that wasn’t expired by over six months. I guess we’ll never know,” she continues and Rick notices that here’s an ounce of teasing in her words.

“We have Kit-Kat’s?” Carl suddenly asks. It seems like chocolate is so far his only concern and his father can’t blame him. A little chocolate might do them some good and maybe a little booze to wash it all down. Rick would have to see what they could get on the next run.

“Yeah, loads, but unless you want to lose a hand, I wouldn’t go near it. It’s my sister’s stash and I don’t think she’s very willing to share. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

* * *

 

Night seems to set quickly on the prison that afternoon and winter is only getting colder. They’d feared the season since autumn began and that was hard enough. Though they were sick of getting battered by bone-chilling winds whenever they set a food outside, they were all grateful that it slowed down the walkers, who struggled to trudge through the cold. It wasn’t snowing, not yet, but it was likely not far off.

Hey, maybe they’d even get to build a snowman.

Daryl had an unsuccessful hunt, which most of them expected. Their soup has become mostly water mixed with few vegetables they can savage from the garden- most lie dormant- and whatever meat they can spare. It’s just the odd chunk of meat or bit of that but it’s better than nothing and even if it doesn’t fill them completely, they’re just glad to have the safety of the prison to protect them from the storm outside.

Their worst fear is being snowed in, trapped in the prison with nothing but the supplies they have without the opportunity for a run or anything of that sort. They can’t afford to waste petrol and they’ve been forced to drive further out for anything decent- bottled water, batteries, baby food. Many of the cars that layer the roads have already been drained of whatever fuel they once had and there isn’t much hope that they’ll find anything else.

All they can do is sit and twiddle their thumbs.

They can only wait, so they do.

“It’s Christmas soon,” Beth says, Judith settled on her hip as she stands near the foot of the stairs, addressing all those before her.

Daryl and Rick sit together, the ex-deputy’s thumb running over the redneck’s hand which currently sits on his thigh, and even though they’re not ignoring Beth, they’re too wrapped up in their own thoughts to hear her speak.

No one’s noticed how close they’re sitting- knees touching and if either of them were to turn their heads, they’d probably end up with the tip of their noses touching- but it isn’t hard to look at them and notice how Daryl has stiffened and Rick still hasn’t taken a bite of the food stabbed by his fork, half-way to his mouth.

“We could get some lights,” the blonde continues, eyeing the two men curiously. “Or you two could get a room.”

Daryl chokes on air at her suggestion, hand shooting away from Rick’s grasp. The other man almost sighs when he feels the absence of the hunter’s hand by his side, the bit of his thigh where Daryl’s hand rested growing cold.

“If we could make a run out, maybe we could have a party or something. You know, because it’s Christmas soon and it’s snowing,” she says, ignoring the deer frozen in the headlights. Daryl’s still like a statue beside Rick, his head giving Beth a small nod in reply. His eyes are widened, more like a kid caught stealing a cookie from the jar than a grown man being told to go somewhere private with the man he loves by a girl who is seventeen, if that. “If you’re going to keep ignoring me, Rick _and_ Daryl, maybe I should just leave you along to make-out.”

Rick realises that the redneck’s embarrassed and at the thought, he stands. The man needs to clear his head because even though Daryl loves him- he said it, with his own mouth, eyes staring right into Rick’s like he was looking into his naked soul- he’s embarrassed about being with him and maybe it should hurt the ex-deputy less than it does but he just wants to get away.

“Excuse me.”

He walks away, one foot in front of the other. He can almost just about feel eyes burning holes in the back of his head but he doesn’t turn around to find out who it is. Everyone’s watching, wondering what the hell just happened to make his storm off like that.

Rick’s exaggerating, that’s what he tells himself. He shouldn’t be so insulted; Daryl doesn’t like personal displays of affection, it’s his own fault for trying to push him but still...

“Still he shouldn’t be afraid of what they’re going to think,” he finishes out loud, glad he’s walked far enough away that his voice will likely go unheard. “Because it doesn’t matter.” –And it doesn’t. They’re in love, who cares?

Rick wants to climb the watchtower and shout out ‘Daryl Dixon is gay!’ but he doesn’t because that would be an awful thing to do.

Rick’s not gay, he doesn’t think he is. He was with Lori for far too long to be gay. He has a son and daughter for God’s sakes. He’s _not_ gay!

Bisexual then. That’s it. But he’s only attracted to Daryl, no one else. Girls, he likes girls. He likes Daryl too. Maybe he’s straight _and_ Darylsexual. Could that be a thing? Because he’s pretty sure- almost one hundred percent- that Daryl Dixon is _not_ gay. Not even remotely.

He’s just gay for a certain ex-deputy.

* * *

 

Even later that night, Rick’s in the watch tower, leaning against the wall as he waits. It’s cold and almost everyone is already having dinner by then so he doesn’t worry too much about being grilled by either of the Greene sisters or Glenn, all of whom seem too overly involved with everyone’s love lives.

What Rick wouldn’t do to be in the watch tower with Daryl by his side.

The other man’s name almost tastes bitter in the ex-deputy’s mouth.

Daryl, who was embarrassed at being caught with his hand on Rick’s thigh. Daryl, who had turned fifty different shades of red when he’d accidentally told Rick he loved him before leaving for a run. Daryl, when asked by Axel what his ‘deal’ was with what Oscar had nicknamed the ‘beard’- something Rick doubted he’d ever shake- had said that they were ‘just friends’.

Yup, those were his actual words.

‘Just friends’.

Daryl _fricking_ Dixon, who made Rick fall in love with him. Daryl Dixon, who Beth called the patron saint of Rick’s own child.

It was ironic really, that Judith would grow up knowing Daryl and Rick as her parents rather than the very woman who had birthed her and her actual father- who was lying on the field of the Greene’s old farm. Rick hated to think about Lori- hated how she haunted his every moment- because he saw her everywhere and even though she was dead- long gone- he still felt like he was doing something very wrong.

But if being with Daryl was wrong, Rick wasn’t sure if he wanted to ever be right.

The clank of heavy footsteps against metal soon begins to fill the air, the man’s attention gliding to the door of the watch tower. He’s not sure how long he’s been up there with his only thoughts as a companion but he’s almost positive he hasn’t been up there long enough to fill his watch slot. Maggie and Glenn are supposed to be taking the next watch and the steps are far too large to be either of them.

With a small shove from the heavy-footed stranger, the door swings open, Daryl appearing from behind it. Rick wants to speak to him, wants to shout at him, ask him ‘why in the world are you so willing to give up on our relationship?’ but he doesn’t. He keeps quiet and leaves his silence to speak for him in place of words.

“You mad?” the red-neck asks. His words are slightly slurred and giving him a second take, the ex-deputy notices the stagger in his walk. He had been drinking, they must have found some alcohol on a run and distributed it out after Beth, Hershel, Carl and Judith went to bed. Rick can’t blame them, if they want to have a little fun, have at it, as long as they aren’t endangering themselves then he has no problem with it.

“You drunk?”

The man raises an eyebrow in question before shaking his head. “Nah, asked you first, man.”

“Why would I be mad?” he asks, eyes darting up to meet the man’s. Maybe Daryl wants him to be angry, to start yelling and screaming or maybe even lash out and smack him but Rick doesn’t. He’s not seeing red, he’s just hurt.

“’Cause of Beth,” the red-neck sighs.

The blonde, that’s whose fault it really is. Rick loves her, she’s family, but he can’t help but feel like if she hadn’t have said something, then they’d probably be alright now, drunkenly discovering each other’s bodies with shaken hands and pieced together “I love you’s” because that’s what Rick wants, almost more than anything, _almost_.

“Daryl, what do you want?”

He’s over this, he’s tired. The older man just wants to be alone with his thoughts, locked in the watchtower with only the sounds of growling below and that of his own misery.

“Ta say I’m sorry.”

There is no need for apologies, just the reassurance that Daryl does love Rick as much as Rick loves him because he isn’t not sure, not right now. He can still barely believe Daryl fell in love with him in the first place and maybe they both just need time to heal, to begin to see more of the best in each other. They should’ve waited, that’s obvious. Time, that’s what they needed. If it hadn’t have been for damn Maggie Greene, they could have seen each other in secret before revealing it.

If it had been a secret, there would be an excuse for Daryl to shrink away, to keep himself hidden from affection and love.

“You don’t need to be. I get it, you’re not okay with it. You don’t need to apologise for not being ready. But when you are, I’ll be here. Like I always will be,” the older man soothes, letting the corner of his left lip lift in a soft smile. “So what? You’re not ready, I get it. Don’t apologise. I love you, Daryl. It’s what we do.”

“I love you too,” Daryl grumbles, an alcohol-induced smile consuming his face. He moves forward, taking uncalculated steps to sit down beside the ex-deputy, this time his hand moving to land on the other man’s thigh.

Rick jolts under his touch, heart sticking in his throat. Turning his head, his lips find Daryl’s, who must have already been waiting to kiss him. What Daryl’s kissing lacks in sober coordination, his passion makes up for. His lips are warm and though he reeks of bourbon- something the ex-deputy had never quite liked too much- Rick thinks the kiss is almost sweeter than any he has ever had.

“Come here,” he mutters, voice low and sultry. “Closer.”

And God, Daryl is very eager.

One hand gripping around Daryl’s hips- fingers digging into the bone- Rick pulls away from the wall, pushing down the red-neck onto the grey concrete. He can’t believe he’s doing this and even though he should stop, he can’t, not until he realises Daryl’s very drunk.

“Daryl,” he breathes, letting his lip part from the man’s for a brief second before resting his own on Daryl’s once again despite the screaming in his head. They’ve made out before, this isn’t any different, well, not until Rick feels himself twitch in his pants when the hunter moans.

Rick leans backwards, hands moving from around Daryl’s waist to help push him off the floor. Yeah, maybe Daryl wants it- as much as he says he does- but not if he’s drunk and not in his right mind. The ex-deputy doesn’t want their first time to be like that.

“You’re drunk,” he points out, the corner of Daryl’s lips twisting into a frown. “I’d be taking advantage of you and I don’t want to do that, Daryl.”

“Ain’t taking advantage of me if I want it,” the redneck drawls, leaning up himself, movements slow and wavered.

“I’m a cop-“

Daryl lets out a strained scoff, one hand running through the thick lot of dirty, dark hair piled upon his head. Even though it’s cold- and Rick thinks he might just about freeze to death- Daryl is sweating. He’s nervous, that’s all, the widow tells himself. “You were a cop, ain’t anymore. Besides, being drunk only makes me want you more, it doesn’t make me feel things I don’t want.”

There’s a hint of truth in the man’s word but Rick can’t take him by it, not when he can barely talk without messing up a few words in a sentence. He’s a mess, that’s the truth, and things like that have to wait.

“I know,” he breathes. “All I’m saying, Daryl, is that before you didn’t even want to sit within a metre of me before and now you’re drunk and you think it’s okay to slip your tongue down my throat and pretend you’re not terrified of everyone knowing you’re gay, which you are. We both know that.”

He expects the man to reply with the same thing he said a few days before- _“I ain’t scared of nothing!”_ \- but he doesn’t, instead, he stands up, legs wobbling on the concrete beneath his feet.

The hunter pushes open the door to the watchtower, muttering something inaudible beneath his breath. It takes a while to reach Rick’s ears and even then, he has to struggle to make sense of the words. They sound like something Daryl’s older brother Merle would say, not the younger Dixon himself.

_‘Dixons aren’t gay.’_

But God, Rick knows that isn’t true. The way Daryl kissed him begs to differ, and the warmth he feels some nights when he and Daryl share a bed- but only rarely, not a lot-, and the way the redneck says ‘I love you’ like he’s a goddamn lovesick puppy begs to differ, but most of all, the biggest of all the things that beg to differ that Dixons aren’t gay, is that Rick has never, ever seen Daryl with a girl.

Only a man.

That man is him, but still, it still stands.

So maybe Daryl Dixon isn’t gay, but he’s something, like Rick is. He’s never really felt that attracted to men, he’d been hit on sometimes by other guys but never reacted to it, only been flattered by the compliments that laid at his feet.

“Grimes’ aren’t gay,” he says, voice a lot louder than he meant it to be, listening to the way the dull slack of feet on metal stops for a brief second before it continues. Daryl heard him, not like it matters anyway. And who is Rick to say Carl or Judith might not by gay?

The grown man sighs, one hand scratching at the rough hair growing on his face. His beard isn’t too long, just finally growing in, and though he feels like he should get rid of it, he kind of likes it. The beard gives him edge and Daryl likes it too.

Love sucks. He can’t even get rid of the thing that ages him ten years without thinking about the man who would give up the heavens for him. He’d do the same for Daryl, he always would, but it’s different. He’s already lost his wife, his first everything, the mother of his children, and he can’t lose anyone else.

Especially Daryl Dixon, the man who could eat Rick alive when he became a rotting corpse and the widower would still love him, the man who could bring up every nasty thing he could in a fight- how Rick failed at this, how he failed at that, how he or she is dead because of Rick, how Lori died because Rick was too damn stubborn to forgive her- and Rick would still, deep inside, still love him with every part of himself.

Even though he thinks his kids should get to be in love, he doesn’t want it to happen. Not because he’s selfish or thinks them undeserving of what romance the world has to offer, love isn’t all it is cracked up to be. It’s cruel and painful and when you lose them- because one day you will lose them- it feels like the world is never going to be just quite right. Like the world has tilted completely on its axis because the one you love will never come back to you.

And he doesn’t want that to happen. He doesn’t want anyone to have to feel the way he feels.

Yeah, maybe they’ll fall in love after their first, much like Rick himself, but it is never the same. One day, the ex-cop won’t see his wife’s face or smell her perfume, but until then, he’s haunted by her memory.

He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s losing his mind or if she’s really a ghost, come back to haunt him.

Hey, maybe Daryl even sees her too.

* * *

 

Daryl keeps shaking his head, feet clanging on the metal floor below his feet.

‘Not gay’ keeps swirling around his head like a silent mantra. He isn’t, no that he knows of. He remembers some nights with his brother, pouring liquor down their throats like it was water, not a care in the world, just the hopes that being drunk would make them better. Daryl had never been truly happy, not as a victim of childhood abuse or the son of a chain-smoking mother and an abusive, alcoholic father. He thinks that maybe things could be worse, much worse, but he doesn’t dwell on that for too long.

His first girlfriend- or something of the sort- was when he was twenty-three, high on drug fumes from Merle’s joint  and too out of his head to realise that he hadn’t liked the experience all that much. His brother had said it was other-wordly, something addictive like the drugs he took, and Daryl had held him to his word.

The hunter had considered his sexuality a few times, curious if maybe he didn’t like it because he was second-hand high or he just really didn’t like girls but he’d knocked it down, refused to entertain the idea he was the kind of boy his father would hate.

He takes a drag of his cigarette, thinking back to the way Rick blew him off so easily, regarding that he is drunk and yes, the ex-deputy should one-hundred percent not take advantage of that, but still, it didn’t seem right _not_ to. Maybe being drunk was the only way he would ever allow himself to properly be with Rick, to be close to him in a way that words could not fully describe. They’d kissed, sure, and it still made him giddy to his head in the kind of way a teenage girl writes in her diary after that boy at school called her pretty, but only because Rick wanted it.

Merle had no problem taking advantage of anyone, never ever, but he didn’t have the same morals as a man like Rick Grimes.

_‘Grimes’ aren’t gay.’_

Hey, maybe they aren’t but it doesn’t explain the way an ex-deputy warm hot breath feels in the crook of Daryl’s neck or the nights when on the rare occasion, when he ends up calling out in his sleep, that Daryl subtly pulls his blanket back over him and sometimes- if the man really wants it- he stays, squished in beside him, trying to restrain from being too close because their warm bodies might be just too warm even in the winter chill.

They’re in love, in a strange way that neither of them quite understands. Daryl can barely remember making the decision to let himself fall into love, let alone that of another man’s, and he doesn’t regret it. Sometimes he wishes he had been more open to the idea to begin with, when Rick was shamelessly flirting and making innuendo jokes at dinner, much to Carl’s surprise who sat there for most of the meal, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He would ask far too many times what something meant and his father would freeze still beside Daryl, who would stare down at whatever they were eating, half-torn between looking up at Rick, who would probably be grinning proudly at his own joke as he stuttered out words trying to tell his son whatever his crude joke meant, and ignoring it.

Rick didn’t like him, that’s what he told himself, and men like Rick didn’t chase either. He was wrong, he knows that. If he had just realised it sooner, maybe things would be different. At first, he hadn’t allowed himself to even think upon the chance that maybe the ex-deputy wanted something beyond the friendship they’d created but as time went on, and he was practically all but yelling ‘I want you, Daryl Dixon!’, the redneck had noticed more, even allowing some of his own crudeness to slip its way into dinner conversation.

When the other man had first hinted at Daryl that he liked him, the man had been mad. At what, he wasn’t too sure. All he knew was that he was angry at something and it might have been Rick but it might not have been, it could’ve been his own inability to realise the man was all but drooling at the sight of him or how he had missed the oh-so-obvious Glenn and Maggie staring at the two whenever they spoke, like there was something so lovely there it deserved their attention.

At first, kissing Rick had been weird, something that was likely of branding him as someone his brother would’ve beaten up after school or a son his father would sooner throw out onto the streets with nothing but a burned out cigarette mark on his arm.

It had been awkward, bumping noses and unsure movements but they had soon grown sure, their hands even tugging at the waistband of the other’s jeans to pull them closer or sharing a loving glance at lunch or dinner.

The first known and noted declaration of their love was when something that neither of them will forget too soon.

Rick hadn’t gotten out of the car after Glenn, Maggie, and himself had returned from a run into town for supplies. Glenn had been driving, hands shaking when he got out of the car, making his own shaky way to Daryl. Maggie followed suit soon after, instead moving to open the back door of the car, soft voice speaking to someone as if they were a child, words unintelligible.

“He’s not bit,” Glenn had said quickly, noticing the way Daryl went still, feet stuck to the floor beneath him. Carl was likely inside, just hearing news of the return and ready to see his father. “Pretty lucky actually, it was a close one.”

“He alright?” Daryl asked, still unable to move from where he stood, feeling like he was just about ready to have a heart-attack or stop breathing or choke on his own saliva because Rick still hadn’t gotten out of that car and Maggie was leaning up then, hand paused on the door handle, shaking her head at her fiancé. It was that moment that made the redneck inhale a sharp breath.

That following night, after Carol had stitched the other man up, Daryl had moved slowly into his cell, approaching carefully as to avoid waking him. The ex-deputy woke anyway, eyes blinking up at the man, hint of a smile upon his lips. Without a second thought, the redneck had moved forward, lips capturing Rick’s with his own, surprised with his own actions.

Rick had moved aside, allowing room for him in the bed and it’d taken quite a few tries before he’d been able to choke out ‘ _Lie with me_?’ in a raspy voice that sounded far too close to death for the redneck so he’d complied.

“Scared me, man,” he’d whispered, trying to control the way in which he shook, Rick’s arms automatically wrapping around him to hold him closer. “Thought for sure when ya didn’t get out that-”

“I’m okay,” Rick had said back, his voice louder and spoken into the crown of Daryl’s head, hair tickling his lips as he did so. “I’m not leaving you, okay? And... _Daryl_?”

Tired and drained of all energy, the man had nodded against Rick, sleepy voice asking ‘Yeah?’ It was mumbled against the material of Rick’s clean shirt but despite that, the man heard him, tightening his grip on him cautiously.

“Stay with me.”

Daryl had stayed and it had been the first night they’d spent together, not speaking of it the next morning but also not missing the way Maggie was looking at them, eyes softening as she stared, chin resting on her palm. It was unsettling being glared at the whole meal and Daryl had snapped at her to mind her own business but if she bothered to listen or cared was beyond them because she kept looking anyway.

The man heads towards his cell, shaking his head as he hears soft footsteps behind him, likely Rick but also unlikely as he has watch for the next few hours until dawn.

“Daryl?”

Electing to ignore his ‘boyfriend’, he continues walking, not missing the way the footsteps fade back into the darkness like Rick decided not to follow him after all. It’s stupid and the redneck shouldn’t be mad but he is because who is Rick to deny him what he wants?

Maybe he should turn back, follow Rick back up to the watchtower and just be content to speak to him until the sun is high in the sky and he’s not drunk anymore, just a little hung-over like at the CDC, but he chooses not to. He’ll probably wake up tomorrow and not remember why he was so damn angry in the first place, just know that it’s going to be fun watching Glenn throw up and Maggie shield her eyes against the brightness of the day and maybe Beth too but she didn’t have enough to get drunk, just a little giddy.

Carl, Hershel, Rick and Judith- granted, she is a baby- will be the only ones who didn’t drink and regret it. Hershel gave up drinking many years ago, throwing back the alcoholic lifestyle to care for his children and Rick was on watch, so he had no choice but to stay sober and alert, unlike the rest of the residents.

Daryl goes to sleep that night and vows to forgive Rick the next day but when he goes to sit down with his bowl of breakfast the next morning, the cop is already bee lining for the door, excusing himself by muttering something about the garden.

* * *

 

“I’m sorry about last night,” Beth says, balancing Judith on her hip while Rick sits on his bed, tying up his shoe lace and not making eye contact with the girl. “I didn’t mean to upset you or anything, it was just a joke. Trust me, I got an earful from Glenn afterwards.”

“It’s fine, Beth,” Rick replies, looking up briefly at her to offer a forced smile. “It was just a joke.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “But you and Daryl haven’t talked since yesterday when I said it and I think it’s my fault. If you’re mad, you can tell me.”

Beth’s prying, trying inconspicuously to figure out why the two men aren’t talking. Rick realises that Maggie probably put her up to it but the brunette isn’t exactly herself at the moment so perhaps not. Maybe the blonde really is just worried.

 “I’m not mad and it’s not your fault,” Rick says, this time sighing. “It’s nothing to do with what you said, it’s something else and before you ask, I’m not willing to share.”

“I know,” the teenager smiles, reaching forward to hand the man his daughter when he finally stands, barely on his feet before Judith is thrust into his arms. “But again, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. After you walked off, it was so quiet. I think everyone blames me for you guys not talking.”

“They have no reason to,” Rick voices, looking down at his daughter, hand playing with the soft hair on top of her head.

Beth purses her lips, own hand reaching out to pull up the baby’s shirt, which seemed to have tugged down when she was exchanged to Rick. “Promise me you’ll talk to him atleast? So everyone can stop staring at me like I killed someone.”

It’s not the choice of words but the ex-deputy nods anyway, smiling at Beth. “I will.”

Shortly afterwards, the teenager leaves, saying something about promising to help Carl look for something he lost and that she might be back later but she isn’t so Rick assumes they’re still looking for whatever it is.

He makes his way over to Maggie and Glenn, both shielding their faces from the light as they groan. Rick almost laughs at the sight of them sitting there and when Oscar strolls in, letting out a small hiss at the sun, Carl smirks at him, obviously amused by the man.

“I feel like I’m dying,” Glenn complains, lying his head on the table in exhaustion as a groan escapes his throat. “Whose idea was it to drink anyway?”

Rick laughs quietly to himself, letting himself smirk at the boy’s words. No one drank nearly as much as Glenn did, not from what Beth told him, and it shows. Maggie frowning down at her food, moving her spoon around the bowl experimentally as she stares at the sludge.

It’s not perfect, just a mixture of vegetables from the garden and luke-warm water but it’s better than nothing. None of the expect much from the Winter and from Daryl either. He’s been doing his damned hardest to provide for them and it’s a lot harder than any of them thought. Rick went a few times, just on the road with Lori during her pregnancy. Mostly it was for an excuse to get away, clear his head, try and ignore the fact the child she was carrying didn’t belong to him. Judith is his partner’s, his friend’s, his best friend’s.

He didn’t forgive her for it but he could see why she did it and he wasn’t going to judge her. She’s been dead for a while now and he’s slowly forgiving himself for it too. He neglected her, let her think he didn’t love her and she died with that same thought in her head. A mother to a child who didn’t respect her and wife to a man who couldn’t look at her.

He loved the idea of Lori more than her herself. He missed his wife, the woman he had in his arms before the world took him from her and then vice versa.

“Yours,” Daryl replies, moving around to sit beside the ex-cop, keeping to himself. There’s no holding hands or touching or even anything of the sort, just sitting a few inches apart, eyes not even meeting. Whether or not the man is still mad at being rejected or not, Rick doesn’t know and he isn’t sure if he wants to find out.

“Well, it was a stupid idea,” the Korean sighs.

Carl grins, happily slurping the soup from his silver spoon. “Almost as good as your ‘let’s paint all the cells a different colour, Daryl’ idea,” he adds, kicking his legs under the table.

One of his feet happens to hit Rick, who hisses at his son, not meaning to sound so angry. “Carl,” he scolds, lifting his head from his food to glance at his son, who is already looking at him, no longer smiling. “Cut that out before you hurt someone.”

“Sure, old man,” the boy replies, his words tugging at the corner of Rick’s mouth.

“Old, huh?” the ex-deputy asks, shifting himself on the chair.

“Better keep that to yourself, little dude,” Daryl says, narrowing his eyes at Carl, who is now peeking at him from beyond the rim of his father’s stetson. “Calling people old. I’m just about as old as your father, that mean I’m old too?”

The kid quickly shakes his head, obviously scared. “No.”

“Then why you going ‘round calling your pa old for?” Daryl asks, raising a curious eyebrow at Carl, elbows splayed on the table in-front of him, leaning closer towards him. If the boy didn’t respect the redneck so much, he probably would’ve spoken back, muttered something under his breath about how he should shut up but instead, Carl sighs, obviously knowing it’s a losing argument for him and occupies himself with eating his food.

He rolls his eyes when Daryl shakes his head towards him, eyes snaking over the boy when they hear a sharp ‘Oh!’ ring out, Beth jumping in her seat, knee bumping the table. “You made me spill my drink!” she shrieks, eyes slitted as she glares at Daryl. Her hands are raised, eyes just glancing down for a second at the wet on her pants and Carl lets out a snort when he looks down at the girl. “What was that for?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he shrugs, taking another slurp of his soup. “Didn’t do nothing, did I?”

Beth stands, a dark patch pressed on the front of her jeans where Daryl made her spill her drink. She stares angrily, a small groan escaping her throat when Carl begins to laugh hysterically, hiding his reddened face behind his hands.

Rick casts a look at his son, trying to hide his own smile. The blonde obviously isn’t impressed and storms off, and shortly after, Carl himself jumps up from the table and follows, still grinning widely as he leaves the area, climbing the stairs to Beth’s cell.

The sound of his feet clanging on the walk on the upper level fade and all that’s left is the almost-silent hushed whispers that echo from the youngest Greene’s cell.

“What’d you do that for?” Rick asks, turning his head to look at the hunter, who is just standing, empty bowl in hand, stomach still hungry though he won’t say and the growl in his stomach just gives that away.

“Do what?” the other man challenges.

The ex-deputy just sighs loudly, shoulders dropping. Glenn still has his head pressed against the table, one hand on the surface, the other grasping his wife’s hand under the table, their fingers locked together. Maggie is eating, not even reacting to her baby sister’s outburst, eyes still closed against the morning sun and she only moves to put her own head down too, like Glenn.

When Rick eats when remains in his bowl, not even letting himself deny his hunger, he wanders outside, searching for Daryl and not having to look for long, finding him with a crinkled cigarette in his hand and a mouth full of tobacco smoke, staring out at the walkers that line the fence.

They haven’t spoken properly since the night before when Daryl was drunk and though he’s hung-over now, he’s gotten over it, better at handling his liquor than anyone else is, including the husband and wife inside who look just about ready to die or vomit or maybe even both.

“Hey.”

“’Sup,” Daryl responds, a small huff of grey squeezing through his lips as he drags on his cigarette. He’s got his jacket on and if Rick hadn’t seen him smoking, he would have been sure that his clothes all smelled like smoke. He doesn’t smoke much, not _too much_ , but it’s still enough to worry Rick. Last thing they need is their best- and only- hunter with lung cancer or something of the sort.

“Nothin’,” the ex-deputy replies, lips pursed. “Just wondering what happened at breakfast.”

The man laughs like it’s a pleasant memory before the smile is swiped off his face, instead replacing a frown. “You gotta teach that boy some manners, Rick. Got him calling you ol’ man. Better start listening to you sometime soon.”

“He’s had it tough.”

“We all have,” Daryl interjects, closing his eyes against tanned skin, head facing the sky. “Don’t give him the right to start being rude to his father or anyone at all. I get it, I had it harder than ‘im as a boy but you didn’t see me calling my pa or Merle names.”

There’s a silence that slowly drapes over them because both know that Daryl doesn’t talk about his childhood much, let alone his dad, and when he does, it’s a saddened thought that fills their heads, reminding them that there are some things they don’t know about each other, a lot actually. Rick is willing to learn, if Daryl lets him.

“He’s a kid,” the ex-deputy says, giving a short shake of his head. “Growing up in a world like this isn’t easy for him, besides, it’s just a name, could be much worse, right?”

“What, like calling you gay?”

The words freeze Rick into spot, head turning to meet Daryl’s gaze. His breath stops, he doesn’t mean for it to but it does, and he feels like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. It’s not a secret but hearing the words still scare him.

He’s dealt with his fair share of hate crimes as a police officer and he dreads to think what would have happened had he fallen in love with Daryl in the old world. It probably wouldn’t have happened because Lori would still be alive but he still thinks that they would’ve met, he likes to think so.

The world is a much bleaker place without Daryl Dixon.

* * *

 

Rick never thought he’d ever have to question his sexuality, not ever, but being with the hunter stirred up feelings inside him that he’d never felt before. Even he could admit he had an eye on Daryl before he felt those feelings, before that mouth he wanted to smack was instead against his own, and the jaw he wanted to punch was soon what he adored small kisses upon. It was strange, he told himself, how he fell for the man. He never ever thought about being gay, just accepted that he wasn’t, and didn’t even let the word pass his mind growing up.

It was a while after Lori died, standing there, a mound of dirt beneath his feet and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the curls on his head dripping with sweat. He was angry, angry at the world, at his new daughter, at his wife.

He just wanted the fear to be over; the way he trembled outside the gates and how his son would no longer look him in the eye. It was something he remembers to this day as never ever wanting to feel again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave a kudos. Thanks for reading!


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